


Perishable

by Rhoswen19



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Blood and Injury, Complete, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode Fix-it, Episode: s04e09 Perishable, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Gunshot Wounds, Hospital, Hurt Stiles, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Injury Recovery, Major Character Injury, Serious Injuries, Stiles-centric, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-19
Updated: 2015-09-23
Packaged: 2018-04-10 02:51:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4374374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rhoswen19/pseuds/Rhoswen19
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Haigh fires twice in an attempt to defend himself from Parrish but the shots fly wide, shattering the window of the Sheriff's office. Sheriff Stilinski is on the floor holding his injured shoulder."Dad?" - There's something in his voice, he thinks it might be fear. "I'm okay, Stiles" "I'm glad, 'cause I don't think I am." He said raising a bloody hand. Shameless Whump.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I’ve been lazily trying for years to get them but I still don't own Teen Wolf or any of its characters. If I did annoying people would stay dead, lovelies would still be in the show and Stiles would get whumped in pretty much every episode. That said let's get this show on the road.
> 
> Author's Note: Hey guys, so I’m on vacation and decided to sit down to watch season 4 with my friend Liz. As we’re watching S04E09 she points out that it was too bad those first shots Haigh fires didn’t hit Stiles. Of course, that idea made perfect sense to me and I had to do something about it. As you may remember (It’s been a while, I know, sorry!), I'm a die-hard whump fan so I had to change the episode accordingly. Let's pretend Lydia wasn't in the Sheriff's office cuz I forgot to include her.
> 
> Please R&R, let me know how I did. As a friendly reminder, my first language isn't English so if you find any mistakes I apologize in advance. Happy Reading!

Parrish walks into the Sheriff’s Station. He makes straight for Haigh who draws his service weapon. Parrish grabs him and slams him against the wall. Haigh fires twice in an attempt to defend himself from Parrish but the shots fly wide, shattering the window of the Sheriff's office and sending shards everywhere. He then throws him to the ground and punches him. The gun goes off, striking Sheriff Stilinski in the shoulder. Haigh keeps saying “but you’re dead” and Parrish keeps punching him. Meanwhile, Sheriff Stilinski is on the floor holding his injured shoulder. Stiles emerges from the Sheriff's office with a shocked expression on his face. 

After Parrish is done releasing his anger and is satisfied with Haigh lying unconscious on the floor, he stands up and heads to the lockers to find something to wear.  
"Dad?" - There's something in his voice, he thinks it might be fear.

"I'm okay, Stiles" - he's in pain but the last thing he wants to do is scare his kid. Stiles may have witnessed a lot in the past few years, but he's still his dad and he'll protect him from whatever he can. 

"I'm glad, 'cause I don't think I am." 

"Stiles?"

“I think…” He said raising a bloody hand. “I think I got shot." He looked down at his chest, blood covered his shirt where he'd been shot and was spreading quickly. 

"No, no, no. Stiles!” He was still looking at his chest, his left arm was hanging useless and his shirt was going from grey to crimson. He found it mesmerizing for some reason. The Sheriff awkwardly pulled himself up to reach his son. His pain forgotten the moment he saw the trouble they were in. Stiles’ hand was shaking, his legs decided to give out from under him. “We need help here!!!”

Parrish came out running from the hall leading to the lockers. “Sir, I called 911. They are on the way.” 

“Help my son.”

Parrish dropped to his knees to press a hand over a bloody patch on Stiles' chest. The Sheriff looked up at him, relief in his eyes. He had one hand clamped over a wound on Stiles' left shoulder but after taking a bullet himself, he wasn’t strong enough to apply pressure on both of Stiles’ wounds.

Stiles grunted. The small pool of blood under him spread. Parrish' sweat pants clung to his knees. He slipped a hand underneath Stiles and hissed. The shoulder was a through and through but the other bullet was still inside.

“What is it?” Not able to hide how worried he was.

“Only found one exit wound.”

“Damnit. Where are those paramedics?!”

“Dad?”

“It’s gonna be okay Stiles. I need you to be strong for me, okay?” Stiles squeezed his eyes as the pain become impossible to bear. His clumsy hand reaching for his father’s searching for an anchor. “I need you to hang on. Help is coming, just hang on, son.” 

Stiles groaned, his head falling back, his body twisting to get away from the source of white hot pain. He could feel something hot and sticky spreading underneath him. He squeezed his eyes once more and sucked in a shuddering breath. And another. It didn't help. “I can’t breathe…” 

“Yes, you can! Slow breaths, come on, son. You can do it.”

“It hurts…”

“I know it does, just hang on a bit longer. You hear that? Those sirens? They’re here for you. They’re gonna take us to the hospital and fix us right up. Does that sound okay?”  
Everything was spinning. “Stiles?” He felt like he was falling. “Stiles, can you hear me?” His world was turning dark around the edges. “Son?” Darkness was welcoming him with open arms. 

“Stiles!” 

 

tbc


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks you for the comments and the kudos!

The paramedics finally burst through the doors with a gurney. “What do we have Sheriff?” the female paramedic, Madison, asked him as she raced with her partner, who looked too young in his opinion. 

“My son was shot twice. He caught one in the arm and one in the chest.” Madison kneeled next to Stiles and Parrish moved out of the way so she could check the kid’s vitals. “Sheriff, it looks like you caught one yourself. This is my partner, John, -- “Hello, Sir.” -- “and he is going to dress your wound to stop the bleeding while I hang out with Stiles, ok?”  
“I’m fine, worry about him.”  
“Don’t be stubborn, Sheriff. I’m not going to stop helping Stiles, but I need information and you can give me that while John and I do our job.”  
“Yeah, okay”  
“Perfect. How long ago did he lose consciousness?”  
The young paramedic kneeled in front of the Sheriff. “Just now. Tried keeping him talking as long as I could – he let out a groan -- until he finally gave up.” John must have touched a sensible spot while dressing the Sheriff’s wound. “Sorry, Sir.” He apologized and kept packing the wound with gauze and immobilized the shoulder as fast as he could so he could assist his partner.   
“That’s great. How about his breathing?”  
“He was starting to show signs of difficulty breathing.”  
John was done with the Sheriff and moved towards Parrish to check him over. “I’m fine, it’s all Stiles blood.” Per instructions of Madison he began inserting an IV on Stiles. “Okay, we’re doing great so far. Is he allergic to anything?”  
“No.”

Madison quickly padded the wounds with hemostatic gauze, she put a c-collar on Stiles, and adjusted the oxygen cannula around his face. Her partner grabbed the backboard from the gurney, and waited until she was done so they rolled Stiles onto the board together. Madison proceeded to secure his head to the backboard with towel rolls and tape. She put the oxygen tank in between his legs, and loaded him onto the gurney and into the rig to get him to the hospital as fast as humanly possible. “Come on, Sheriff. Let’s get you two to the hospital.” He exchanged a last glance with Parrish before allowing Madison to help him climb into the ambulance.   
Once in the ambulance Madison was checking Stiles blood pressure, his pulse and oxygen level while John drove. Stiles hand began twitching and a moan escaped his lips. “What’s happening?” the Sheriff asked alarmed. 

“Don’t worry, he’s just coming around.” While she connected him to the heart monitor, his eyes fluttered open and the Sheriff squeezed his hand in encouragement.   
“Hey, there.”   
“Dad?”   
“Yeah?”   
“Where are we?”   
“Madison here was kind enough to give us a ride to the hospital.”  
“Hey Stiles, from 1 to 10, how’s the pain, kid?” she asked as she started a second IV.   
“I don’t know… a 6, I think.”  
“Well, Sheriff it looks like he’s a chip off the ole block. It’s okay Stiles, I know you are in a lot of pain.”   
“It’s really… - he began coughing – not that bad.” There was this tickle in the back of his throat that he couldn’t get rid of. “Can I get a blanket?” Madison was checking his lungs and she could hear as hitched breaths slipped in and out of the young man.   
“You already have one, son.”  
“Oh”  
“It’s fine, here you go, let’s keep you real warm sweetheart.” Madison covered him with another emergency blanket while she explained to the Sheriff who was giving her a confused look. “It’s the blood loss, shock is starting to set in. His breathing is becoming more labored. John, we needed to be there yesterday!”   
“Almost there.” 

The heart monitor was showing an erratic, but still beating heart. The hand the Sheriff was holding was cold and clammy. It unexpectedly went limp beneath his and he almost dropped it. When he looked at Stiles’ ashen face he noticed his eyes had drifted shut. There was a beep somewhere, a curse and Madison yelling at John to stop the rig. John replied that they were there but before the doors were opened Madison had swiftly inserted a breathing tube down Stiles throat and was squeezing air into his lungs. They rushed him out of the ambulance and through the hospital doors where the medical personal took over.   
The Sheriff had to almost jog to keep up, but was stopped at the trauma room door by Melissa McCall.

"I promise you they’re going to take good care of him.” She put a hand in his shoulder to draw his attention. “There’s nothing you can do in there but be in the way. Right now we need to take care of you so you can be there for him." The words were meant to comfort, but comfort was not to be had tonight. 

tbc


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so by know you’ve realized how this is pure and shameless Stiles Whump. I’m just going to make him hurt as much as I can and have poor Papa Stilinski worry for his son every step of the way. It makes me super happy, I hope it does the same for you! Once again, thank you for your comments, kudos and bookmarks.

Chapter 3

The Sheriff was somewhat settled in his room, Melissa was there as the doctor explained how they were going to perform surgery to dig out the bullet in his shoulder. He’s not really paying attention to words, he can barely understand what he’s signing. They are forms needed for the procedure that much he gets. His mind is elsewhere, all he can think about is Stiles. He wishes he can go back to the station and beat Haigh into a pulp like Parrish did for hurting his family. The doctor is quiet, apparently waiting for some kind of response.

“Its fine, whatever you need to do as long as you understand I’m not going anywhere until I know my son is going to be alright.” The words come out a lot harsher than he intended them too. He knows is not the guys fault but still, he doesn’t feel all that bad when the guy grabs the paperwork and leaves the room.  
“I’ll see what I can find out.” Melissa told him and she let go of the hand she was holding. In that moment he was glad to know her. As a friend, nurse and a parent she knew just what to say and what to do to help out in the situation. Plus, Scott and Stiles have been friends for so long they have become brothers. He sees Scott as another son and he’s sure she feels the same way about Stiles and that helps.

When Melissa reached the waiting room, she wasn’t surprised to see Scott pacing from side to side, Malia sitting in between Lydia and Kira. Lydia was turning pages of a magazine she wasn’t really reading, while Kira kept busy using her phone. Malia looked to be annoyed she had to fight back the tears that were threatening to run down her cheeks. Stiles had been teaching her a lot about being a regular teenager but she was still learning to control her emotions. Another one having trouble with emotions was Derek, who looked troubled standing in a corner. The moment Melissa stepped in the room, they all turned to face her. They probably thought she had news.

“Mom?”  
“They should be finishing soon. When they settle him in recovery I’m going to bring the Sheriff so he can see him before his own surgery. He refused to be operated until he knew how Stiles was.”  
“Will we be able to see him tonight?”  
“I don’t know Scott, he’s in a very delicate condition right now. Once he’s out of recovery he’s most likely going to be placed in ICU and how long his stay there is depends on any complications that may arise. I promise I’ll let you see him the moment the doctor approves it.” A nurse wearing scrubs came out looking for Melissa, whispered something in her ear, gave her arm a squeeze and left.  
“I’m going---“   
“Go” Scott interrupted her knowing exactly what she was going to say. She gave him a brief smile before leaving the room and going back to the Sheriff.

“Well Stilinski, this is how its going to work out. I’m going to take you to see Stiles,” He opened his mouth to interrupt her but she held up her hand and continued talking. “he’s going to be in recovery, with some equipment and tubes around him and it’s going to bring back memories and its going to look like he’s being drowned in all of that but I assure you they’re only there to help him and its only temporary.” Her tone softened. “He’s going to be intubated and its going to be overwhelming but you need to remember that’s he’s alive, he’s a fighter and this is just another obstacle that he’s going to overcome.” He nodded. “After that a nurse is going to take you to be prepped for surgery and by the time you’re out Stiles is going to be settled in ICU. If all goes well with your surgery, which I’m sure it’s going to be, they’ll give you a room and I can come and get so you can see Stiles during visiting hours. We’ll figure out the rest as we go, okay?” He finally found his voice, “yeah, and Melissa, thank you.”  
“You would do the same for me.”

He was glad Melissa had prepared him before letting him in, but it was still hard to take in. His full of life, never still son was hooked up to numerous pieces of equipment, wires and tubes. Many of which he remembered seeing when his wife got sick. He couldn’t control his emotions, it was like flashing back to that moment in time where he had to helplessly watch his wife slowly slip away. He grabbed his son’s hand as the doctor explained how critical Stiles was before they got him to surgery.

“When we got to him his chest cavity was full of blood, and one of his lungs had collapsed. He had gone into full respiratory arrest and they had to put him on a ventilator. As you can see he’s still hooked to one to assist his breathing but don’t let that scare you. As he improves we’ll be weaning him off until he no longer needs it. We were able to remove the bullet, repaired the lung, and sutured a chest tube in place to drain any fluid still inside to avoid complications. Bullet wounds are tricky so we’re pumping him full of antibiotics to avoid infection from setting in.” The doctor made sure Stilinski was looking at him before adding. “I know things look bad but he made it through surgery beautifully so I’m cautiously optimistic at this point. He’s young and in good shape so I think he has a good chance of beating this. We’re going to give you a few minutes so that you can stay with him but after that it’s your turn, Sheriff."

“Thank you”

He gently ran his fingers across his forehead and then down his cheek. He stood caressing the side of his face with the back of his hand. This was his boy. His own flesh and blood. A precious gift born out of his love for his wife. Here he was, by his bedside, watching the gentle rise and fall of his heavily bandaged chest to the rhythm of the ventilator. "How many times are you going to scare me like this?" he whispered softly. “You need to find a way to stop being in the wrong place at the wrong time. No matter how much I try to keep you out of trouble, you always find yourself in the middle of it.” He sighed heavily. “Just come back to me, son. We promised we’d take care of each other.”

“Sheriff, it’s time.” He nodded, and placed a tender kiss on Stiles forehead before leaving. “Don’t go anywhere, kiddo.” 

tbc


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note: I cannot stress enough just how sorry I am for posting this chapter so late. I have no clue when it comes to managing my time efficiently. I do hope you enjoy this new installment and that you keep loving this story. I’m super happy with all the favorites and follows, thank you so much.

Chapter 4

True to her word, a few hours after the Sheriff’s surgery, Melissa entered his room with a wheelchair. “Ready to see Stiles?”  
“Has there been any improvement?”  
“It’s still too early to tell, give him a bit more time.”

The ICU was only a couple of floors up and they made the trek in silence. There was this tension and anxiety in the air, they didn’t know how to handle. The closer they got to his son, the colder and quieter the hospital felt. It brought back memories, but he told himself he wasn’t going to go there. This was a different situation and it was going to have a different ending. 

As they entered the room they noticed Stiles had a special visitor. Malia had somehow climbed on his bed, her head leaned against his shoulder. The spell was broken when suddenly she raised her head and looked towards their direction, her keen hearing allowing her to sense their presence. The Sheriff observed the interaction between this young girl and his son and saw so much more than just teen love. There was anguish and real love in that glance. He caught a glimpse of something fierce and almost primitive, a sense of intense protectiveness to rival his own. 

Malia very carefully climbed down without disturbing him or the equipment around him. She looked at Stiles one last time, “I’m…” She awkwardly looked for an exit. “I’m gonna go.” The Sheriff suspected she was not accustomed to display her emotions to just everyone, it was probably a thing she only reserved for her friends and Stiles. She placed a tender kiss on his lips and left.   
“I’ll get going too. Give you some privacy.” Melissa said before going back to work.

“You found a good girl, Stiles” he looked at his son’s face. He looked so young, too young and vulnerable. His hair was flatten and devoid of its usual spunk. His eyelids looked almost transparent, tiny veins and capillaries showing through. His rosy lips had lost a shade or two. “I know you’re lazy Stiles but I need you to get moving. Get healthy so you can stick your nose where it doesn’t belong.” 

There was no movement from the young man in the bed. No indication he was listening. No indication he was even alive. Just the beep of the heart monitor and the soft gasp and hiss of the ventilator that controlled the rise and fall of his chest. Every sound seemed loud and bluntly amplified and it scared him to no end.  
By the second day the Sheriff had been released but spent as much time near his son as he could. Stiles wasn’t improving as the doctor hoped. Instead he was running a fever but the incision looked clean and clear of infection. But his white cell count was rising and his oxygen saturation levels were decreasing despite his lung being fully repaired and being taken off the ventilator. After the doctor ran various tests, it was determined that the cause for the setback was VAP. Melissa explained how it was ventilator associated pneumonia, basically a bacteria made its way into his lung through the endotracheal tube. “He’ll fight this. He’s going to be all right, in the end.”   
“Things have to get worse before they get better, huh?”  
“Something like that.”

Sometime during the afternoon Stiles opened his eyes. He looked so small and fragile but seeing him awake restored his faith that things could get better. His hand was so hot beneath his, and there was no real strength in his fingers. His eyes fluttered shut again before the nurse finished administrating the new dose of antibiotics and he knew things weren’t okay yet but maybe it was a sign. “Okay son, take your time. I’m here.”

The next day Scott decided to stop by the hospital before school. He noticed right away something was not right as he got closer to the ICU, the blue light over the doorway to the ICU was on and even before Scott heard the call over the PA system he knew it was Stiles. There’s no change outside because all the action is behind those closed double doors. Scott has to fight the wolf inside that wants to rip the doors off the hinges and help his friend but his mom is suddenly there, and he’s glad for it. 

"Attention, attention, attention. Code blue is clear," states the PA overhead. "Code blue is clear."

Scott can’t breathe until the doctor comes to see them. He’s is on edge, thinking the worse. The doctor knows Scott but because he’s underage he addresses Melissa.  
"Gave us a thrill there," he says, nodding to himself. "He’s all right now."  
"What happened?" Scott asks, in a thin voice that doesn’t sound at all right.  
"He’s getting a great number of medications. Some of them didn’t like each other. We’re switching him out now. We’ll keep a close watch for the next few hours."  
“Do you think is possible for Scott to stay with him for a while?”  
“Shouldn’t he be in school?”  
“Please, he’s my best friend.” Scott begs and the doctor nodded. “Fine, but I need you to stay out of the way if something happens again. He’s not out of the woods yet.” Scott didn’t know what he was expecting as he entered the room. Everything looked the same. Stiles doesn’t look better, but he’s still hanging in there so he knows he should be grateful. It bothers him how unnatural it feels to see Stiles so still and quiet. This is a guy that talks even when he’s asleep. He chuckles at the memory but the smile fades as he notices a change in the room.

His senses on alert, Scott noticed the change was in the beeping pattern emitted by the heart monitor. He closed his eyes and listened more carefully. His heart rate started to race as he realized that Stiles’ was actually slowing down. He hardly reached Stiles’ bedside when the first alarm went off and a team of nurses came running in. 

“Scott, we need you to step outside,” a now familiar voice of the doctor instructed him sternly. He did as instructed and stood in front of the room. He tilted his head so he could listen to what was happening inside the room.  
“He’s crashing, again,” a nurse told the doctor. “BP is falling rapidly. Pulse is at 32 and dropping. Oxygen level 88.”   
Wait, the beeping sound had stopped…  
No more heart beats– a flat line.  
“We’re losing him!” Scott heard the doctor shout. “Ready the paddles at 200.”

"Come on Stiles, don’t leave me… you’re my best friend..."

tbc


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the kudos and bookmarks. I’m glad you guys seem to be enjoying reading this story as much as I am writing it. A special shout-out to TeenWolf98 who has been with this story since the beginning and has left me a lovely comment every time. Thank you!! 
> 
> As a side note, I apologize for the mistakes. This story has not been properly betaed.

Chapter 5

After a nap and a quick shower, the Sheriff was more than ready to return to his son’s bedside. He decided to indulge in a home brewed cup of coffee. The precious black liquid had become his main source of fuel lately. He poured it in his favorite mug and just when he was about to take his first sip, the phone rang. He picked it up, heart racing with worry. Knowing it had to be about his son, he dared to hope it was good news but his mind was telling him otherwise. Next thing he knows Melissa was telling him Stiles’ condition had taken a turn for the worse and he had gone into cardiac arrest. 

His world suddenly stopped. His son’s heart had stopped beating and he wasn’t there with him. He had lost Stiles, however briefly, but his son had technically died while he was taking his time to daydream about coffee. He didn’t remember hanging up the phone, or locking the door of his house. He got in the car and rushed to the hospital to be with his son and vowing to never leave him again.

The Sheriff made it to his son’s room, embraced him and let a couple of tears loose. His boy was alive. “Don’t do that again, you can’t go. For once in your life, listen to your father, Stiles. You’re too important, don’t go.” After letting the father have an emotional moment with his son, the doctor informed the Sheriff, Stiles had a reaction to the new medication but they were able to address the issue and adjust the medications to avoid any more complications in the future.  
The next couple of days were uneventful. It got harder and harder on everybody each day that passed by and there was no change. Stiles was stable but he had yet to wake up. 

He surfaced several times from the slumber where he had been hiding, each time unable to move or even open his eyes. He heard different voices, but he had a hard time understanding what they were saying. He thought he heard his father, “Stiles, wake up son.” His dad’s voice was filtering down through the layers of consciousness. He also thought he heard his friends, pretty sure Scott, Malia and Lydia’s voice weren’t in his head. 

There were times when he could have sworn he heard his mother, thought that he felt her touch, but that couldn’t be right. His chest felt tight, fear and anxiety constricting his lungs. His whole chest felt heavy, as if he was being weighed down by something pressed onto his chest. He tried to move, to open his eyes, but even his eyelids felt weighted down. The effort wore him out, and he once again let himself be pulled down into darkness. 

Stiles didn’t have a clear concept of passing time. He didn’t know what had happened or how long ago it had happen. He just knew he was tired and his head still seemed fuzzy and for some reason, he felt like he’d ran a marathon. Every breath he took felt like someone was setting his lungs on fire. When did breathing become such a feat? 

He opened his eyes for a few seconds before shutting them tight. Pain crashed through him in waves. His whole body screamed at him. It felt like his every muscle was strung taught and could not release. His whole chest was nothing but pulsing, white-hot agony. The electrodes he could now feel attached to his skin like little discs of a thousand needles, pricking into his skin. There was nothing but mind-numbing pain.

Stiles tried to take in a deep breath to help him focus on blocking the pain, but there was nowhere for it to go. His panicked mind didn’t understand what had happened, why he was like this. He thought maybe it was just one of his old panic attacks coming back, so he tried taking small breaths, shallow and steady. Calming himself down as best as he could. Not the first time he’s in unbearable pain and managed it. He could do it again, no sweat. 

Stiles managed to open his eyes again and began to blink hard, trying to get things to come into focus. The first thing he saw clearly was his father awkwardly sleeping in a chair next to his bed. Stiles wanted to call out to him but the sound didn’t go past his lips. He tried one more time, “Dad?” he asked, surprised at how thin his voice sounded. He wasn’t even sure his dad had heard his call. He tried to take off the oxygen mask to speak more freely. The Sheriff sat up straight, cracked his bones and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. When he looked at Stiles, he was delighted to find his eyes open and more focused, and his hand pulling at the oxygen mask. The Sheriff gently took Stiles' hand away from the mask.

“That’s gotta stay on for now, son.” But Stiles shook his head and looked pleadingly at him. “Alright, but only for a minute.” He gave in and removed the oxygen mask.  
“You… okay?” the Sheriff smiled at the question.  
“Yeah kiddo, it’s you everybody is worried about.”  
“Why?”  
“Don’t you remember what happened?”  
“Got… shot.” Stiles was concentrating on getting his breathing under control but it was getting harder to do so.  
“Let’s put this back on.” The Sheriff put the oxygen mask over his son’s mouth and nose. “Yeah, you were shot by Haigh, who not only is fired but in jail for attempted murder against Parrish, for shooting me and most import of all, for shooting my son.” He was rewarded with a goofy, lopsided smile that warmed his heart. “You’ve been really sick for a while.”  
“Sorry.”  
“Not your fault. Just concentrate on getting better, okay?” Stiles nodded. “I’m going to find the doctor. I’m sure you can use a painkiller right about now.” 

 

tbc


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it. We have finally reached our destination. I'm sorry you had to wait so long to have the entire product. I'm very happy with how this turned out and I can just hope you love it as much as I do. Many thanks to Lizard971, who tried fixing all my tenses screw ups (and they were many!) Also, I forgot to mention all the medical knowledge came from web searching cuz I only have an imaginary medical license that "allows me" to whump pretties for your reading pleasure. Last but not least, thank you for sharing the Stiles whumpy journey with me.

As soon as he opened his mouth he ended up coughing. It started out as a soft dry cough that left him breathless but the coughing got worse with every attempt he made to draw air. Stiles gripped the metal riling of the bed and hunched forward, white-faced with misery. He was wracked with yet another bout of coughing, lungs tight and constricted with phlegm. All the hacking was taking its toll on him, wreaking havoc with his damaged chest, and injured shoulder. It always left him exhausted, short of breath and gasping for air.

It had been days since he woke up from his slumber. He remembered vividly the events of the station. The feeling of being startled by the shattered window and the yelling between Parrish and Haigh… he never liked that guy.

He remembered the sounds being overwhelmingly loud. He tried to escape it all by doing those stupid breathing exercises, but the problem was, he couldn’t breathe. The air felt thick around him. His shoulder was suddenly on fire and the heat was spreading throughout his chest. He tried getting his legs moving. He managed to stand and poke out his head from his dad’s office. His vision was blurry so he couldn’t make out what was wrong with his chest. He tentatively searched it with his hand, there was a wetness that made his t-shirt stick to his body.

Pain + warm liquid = being hurt. If you add the shots fired to that, there’s a high probability that he, in fact got hit. He tried walking to his dad but the floor was moving. So he called out instead, “Dad?” He’s terrified now, he knew he failed at hiding that from his voice but the pain was growing and the air was almost inexistent.

"I'm okay, Stiles" – he heard his dad’s voice but he’s having a hard time focusing on it. At least he knew that one of them made in out of the situation in one piece. "I'm glad, 'cause I don't think I am." He replied.  
"Stiles?" the worry was unmistakably present in the single word. If the excruciating pain Stiles felt was any indication, he couldn’t blame his dad for being worried. He already did the math in his fuzzy brain, all he needed to do now was confirm it. “I think…” He inspected the hand. The blood on it was already clotting, turning dark and thick and staining it. “I think I got shot." He finally announced and looked down at his chest. The shirt he put on that morning had changed colors. It went from grey to crimson in a matter of minutes. That couldn’t be a good sign.

He knew his dad was saying something but all he could do was stare at his shirt. Was that one of his favorite shirts? The question left forgotten some place inside his brain when the floor came up from behind to meet him.

Someone must have spilled something on the floor, which has to be the reason why he fell backwards and his back was soaking wet. His dad was there and so was Parrish, they’re talking to each other but Stiles didn’t care enough to follow the conversation. The pain was reaching new levels and the worse it got the less he could breathe. He was gasping like a fish out of water. He called out to his dad, someone needed to turn the air on.  
“It hurts…” The blood rushed to his ears, while the air rushed out of his lungs. His vision was darkening around the edges. The darker it got, the less pain he felt so he simply stepped into the void. 

After that not a lot was clear. Apparently, somewhere along the lines he stopped breathing, had extensive surgery, was unconscious for days, developed pneumonia and had a reaction to some medication. No one would tell him what kind of reaction thought, but the look on their faces when he brought it up said it was bad.

Since he didn’t remember any of those things all he could attest to was that this pneumonia thing was kicking his ass. Every time he broke into a strenuous coughing fit, it lasted a while. Then came the groaning because coughing with a chest that was still healing from a gunshot wound is uncomfortably painful to say the least. So he tried to wrap his hand around his ribcage, holding on tightly to his damaged chest with his good arm and waited to ride it out. Every time he coughed, his chest would catch fire, but if he didn’t, then he ended up wheezing. The painkillers helped, but as glad as that made him, the side effects, he could do without.

In some ways, he imagined that dealing with some pain and coughing couldn’t be as bad as what his dad had gone through. Whenever his dad fell asleep, Stiles would watch the lines on his face. To the eyes of anyone else, his dad looked normal, a very happy man. To him, his dad looked like he aged a few years in just a few days. Sure, the happiness of having him awake and on the mend was real, but the stress and worry were still somewhat present around his dad’s eyes and he could see it as plain as day. He wished he could’ve spared his dad that kind of pain and worry. He wished that Haigh hadn’t been so greedy he almost made three people perish in the name of dollar bills.

In the end, all he could do was get better and thank whoever was watching out for them that they still had each other.  
“Stiles” said the Sherriff in a gruff voice, without even cracking an eye open.  
“Yeah?”  
“You’re thinking too hard. Go to sleep, kiddo.”  
“Yes, sir.”

Finis


End file.
